


Stay Hungry

by blueorangecrush



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Eating Disorders, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hero Worship, M/M, Moving On, Power Imbalance, Recovery, orthorexia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:51:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueorangecrush/pseuds/blueorangecrush
Summary: John won’t rest.  And if John won’t rest, Ryan can’t rest.  He’s tired all the time, sore all the time, hungry all the time.He can’t live like this.  He can’t stop.  He can’t tell anyone because they’d either tell him to suck it up and stop whining or – or they’d tell him that John doesn’t love him, and John loving him is the one thing that Ryan needs to be sure of.He wants to cry all the time, but John would see it and Ryan would have to explain.





	Stay Hungry

**Author's Note:**

> Thought I'd sneak this one in just under the wire. 
> 
> Thanks as always to the usual suspects who kept at me until I got this thing written - I've had the idea for years but couldn't seem to make myself finish it.
> 
> Also big thanks to Evian_fork for the MOST EXCELLENT art. <33333
> 
> Detailed warnings in the endnotes if you think you may need them.

Ryan can’t believe it. It seems like just a few minutes ago that Matt Moulson was texting him “good luck, kid!” messages. And now Ryan’s been chosen by his team.

Ryan is going to get to play with John Tavares.

He can’t believe it.  He feels like the luckiest kid in the world.  Luckier than Nuge going first-overall.  Nuge isn’t going to get to play with _John Tavares._  

There are cameras on Ryan, microphones in his face, and for all the media training he’s had, he’s having trouble saying much more than, “I’m just so happy!” over and over.

So happy.  There aren’t words for this.  It’s everything Ryan’s ever wanted and it’s real and it’s happening.

Even if it isn’t happening yet.  Even if Ryan needs to develop more, or whatever, it’s fine.

Ryan forgets, a lot, that John is only a few years older than him.  It’s hard to remember that when John’s face is everywhere in Ontario, when his skill and talent and determination are things of legend that every hockey coach from peewee on up lectures about now, when John is every single thing that Ryan wants to be but at the same time close enough that he’ll talk to Ryan and help Ryan – help Ryan be _more like him_.

John asks Ryan to train with him and Matt that summer, not just to be a better player but to learn more about how the Islanders practice, and Ryan can’t believe how lucky he is.

\--

The thing is, Ryan had wanted to be angry and upset and disappointed when he was sent back to Niagara.  He was picked high enough to hope that he’d be too good to send back down, that he could go right from the NHL draft to the NHL.

And maybe for a little while, he was.  But coming back to the O isn’t all bad.  Ryan makes Team Canada for World Juniors, and they bring back a medal.  Even if it’s only bronze, it’s _something_.  And Niagara finishes out the regular season as the best team in the league, makes it all the way to the finals round of the playoffs.  And Ryan – Ryan’s part of the team that _did that,_ and maybe everyone who talked to him when he got sent down was right about right now it being better for Ryan to be on a really good junior team than a…decidedly not-so-good NHL team. 

(Ryan had been watching the Islanders standings all year, had really not liked what he saw.  Somehow he’d thought that any team John Tavares was on would of course _have to_ be better than that, but maybe that was part of the lesson his coaches needed him to learn, too, that one player isn’t the team, no matter who they are, no matter how good they are.)

Ryan’s hopeful about the next season until the NHL lockout goes from whispers and grumbles of what might be to an actual thing that was going to happen, that  _is_  happening.  And he’d never really wanted to think too much about the business side of hockey, or even about things like off-ice drills – he had always just wanted to get out there and play.  And maybe that wasn’t the best attitude, maybe that’s part of why why people used to grumble about his work ethic back before the draft and say that it might cost him  _in_  the draft.  Maybe that’s another reason the Islanders hadn’t kept him up – and thinking about that gets Ryan more interested in his off-ice routine.  John and Matt are happy to train with Ryan over the summer, but it gets awkward as Ryan knows that heading back to Niagara is the only thing he can do, and the older players are trying to figure out where or how or _if_ they are playing until “this thing” is over.

So Ryan goes back to Niagara, again, and back to World Juniors, and none of it goes as well as it did the year before.  Except he hangs out with Jo a lot, which is fun – they have a lot of chemistry as linemates, and Jo is a sweetly willing New Year’s Eve kiss off the ice, too.  Still, Ryan would rather have had a medal without the kiss than the kiss without the medal. And he’s the veteran player by World Junior standards, so now he has to feel the frustrated scorn of the hockey center of the universe, that he _let Canada down._   It’s a lot. It’s too much.  Especially because with the lockout still dragging on, there are a lot more people paying attention to things like World Juniors than there normally would be.

It’s disappointing to get called up for training camp once the NHL finally decided to get the lockout nonsense done, and to make it onto the opening day roster, only to get sent back down _again_ to make room for someone coming off injured reserve _._   It was good to be back with the guys in Niagara in some ways, but at the same time Ryan was getting impatient, was ready to move on, wanted more than this. 

At least when Niagara’s season’s done, disappointingly early, Ryan can move on to Bridgeport.  It’s a step in the right direction.

And it’s enough for Ryan to come back to John, that off-season, with more questions.  He had to go from having lunches at school and dinners made by his billet family to figuring that stuff out for himself.  Not on game days, of course, there was food provided by the team then, but on the off-days Ryan had to admit he didn’t have the slightest clue what he was doing.  It had been a little embarrassing to ask John about how to  _feed himself_  but he figured that John had been dealing with that kind of thing for long enough that he might have picked up a few tips – even if some of the stuff Ryan had heard about, like guys hiring their own personal sushi chefs, probably wouldn’t work so well on an entry level contract or worse, AHL money.

Fortunately, even if John was maybe laughing a little at Ryan’s expense, he’s also willing to give decent advice for a hopefully soon to be future teammate.  John tells Ryan that there are always fads to load up on this vitamin or that electrolyte but “as long as you have a base that’s lots of good stuff and not a lot of bad, the trends don’t matter unless they matter for you” and emphasizes not wasting time on worrying about it too much.

Well.  That’s easier said than done, but Ryan does see the point. Sometimes after a particularly rough practice it’s just about getting something, _anything at all_ , down and when he was at World Juniors the coaches had reminded him, reminded the whole team that “the most nutritious food you can possibly eat is the food that you _will_ eat.”

So this is good.  Ryan’s not going to have to experiment with, like, a diet consisting mostly of eels and weird green smoothies, or anything like that. 

His mom laughs at him, just a little, when he talks to her about what John said.  She reassures Ryan that if he was supposed to be supplementing his diet with eels or whatever she’d make sure he got them but then laughs and asks what she’d need to do if Dylan needed some other weird thing, like ostrich eggs.

“You’ve kept track of us this well, Mom, I think you’d figure it out,” Ryan says, laughing.  “Besides, I won’t be in your hair much longer anyway.”  Training camp would be coming soon enough.

\--

This time.   _This time,_ for sure he has a real shot at making the team.

And he tries.  He _tries,_ damn it.

And it doesn’t happen.

Being sent to Bridgeport is – he _guesses_ – better than being sent back to Niagara, not that Niagara is an option anymore.

He tries not to take it personally.  Unless you are literally John Tavares – and Ryan _knows_ he’s not, okay – that’s just how the Islanders system is.  Ryan’s heard that they are one of the teams who have a reputation for taking development slowly.  Play out your junior or college eligibility, put in a couple years in the minors, and then maybe late that second year you’ll start seeing real call-ups. 

_Nothing personal, Strome.  Just the system. Just – show them the hunger, the drive to make it and maybe that call-up will come this year instead of next year.  You got this._

Yeah.  Apparently he’s giving himself motivational speeches now. 

He’s also playing decent hockey, so it must be helping. Okay, maybe a little better than decent. He clicks well with his linemates, and they’re good company off the ice.  Not as good as Jo at World Juniors, of course, but that’s to be expected – Ryan knows he’s not exactly typical in that regard, tries to put it out of his mind as much as he can.

And every now and then Matt or John will send him a text, saying they saw video of one of his goals, or one of his assists, and that he’s looking great and they’re looking forward to having him up with the big club sometime soon.

Ryan’s not going to deny that those texts help a lot. They help him stay focused on moving up instead of just letting himself enjoy where he is now.  Because where he is now? It’s not good enough.  He can do more.  He _knows_ he can do more.

\--

Just because they’ve called him up doesn’t mean he’s actually going to play.  They’ve been through this before.  He’s been through this before. He’d like to think he’s a little older and okay, not wiser, but less stupid, less naïve.  They could be carrying him as insurance, letting him practice as a development exercise, and never putting him into a game at all.  He wouldn’t put it past them, at this point.

He's relieved when he actually manages to get into a few games this time, when he shows he can hold his own.  Even if it takes him almost a month to get his first NHL goal. It finally happens against the Stars, on a power play because somehow they’re trusting him to play on the power play with John, and John manages to get the puck to Ryan and this time when Ryan hits it, it goes in.

“You got this, Stromer!” John says, looking pleased.  Ryan’s pleased, too, that John isn’t calling him _kid_ anymore.

This is the dream coming true. He’s playing in the NHL with John Tavares.  He’s just scored a goal, assisted by John Tavares.  How is this real?

\--

Ryan gets sent back down to Bridgeport for the Olympic break. He understands – playing is better than not playing, and it’s not like he’s Olympics good, not yet, not on a team that uses John Tavares as a fucking fourth-line center.  He feels bad about laughing at Colin chirping John about how a fourth-liner should be more physical, but, well, it seems pretty funny at the time. 

Then John gets hurt at the Olympics, and between that and a couple of practice injuries hitting the guys that didn’t go to the Olympics, Ryan’s entire _line_ gets called up at the same time after the Olympic break.

Sometimes it’s good.  Like being part of a third period that started down 0-3 and ended up a 7-4 win. Like seeing someone hold a sign up at pre-game warmups and realizing that the sign was for _him_ and getting to throw a puck to the kid who was holding the sign.  Like flights instead of bus rides, even if he’s sharing a room with Anders just like they did on Sound Tigers trips.  Like glancing across the ice at nameplates he’d only ever seen on TV before.

But sometimes it’s bad.  Like having to hear the buzz that John Tavares _is_ the team, that they can’t possibly be any good without him. Especially when so far this year they hadn’t been good even _with_ him.  Like the guy that they traded Moulson away for deciding that he wasn’t going to stick around, and landing in Montreal for the trade deadline. 

Like realizing that next year, with John and everyone else healthy again, it’s going to be the same old same old at training camp.  Ryan might be a good injury call-up, but he’s got no reason to think that he’d stick on the roster once everyone had the summer to heal.

Of course, as they train together in the off-season, John yells at Ryan for thinking that way about it.  Then he offers to have Ryan move in with him, says that he can make it as close to a sure thing as he knows how that Ryan _will_ make the team, as long as Ryan listens to him.

And how can Ryan say no to that? It’s not every day that your idol, the idol of all your junior teammates, offers to help you personally become more like him. 

Training with John like this, living with John, trying to do as many of the things that John does as possible, is harder than rookie camp. When Ryan heads to New York for rookie camp, it’s a relief, a respite from John’s demands.

Ryan hadn’t known this, but apparently there is a rule that the actual workouts, on-ice or otherwise, for rookie camp can only happen for three hours a day.  He’s doing double that, easily, with John. 

“You have to treat it like your full-time job,” John always says to Ryan.  That means one block of ice time, two blocks of off-ice workouts, and in between all that, studying game tape over meals that are more admirable for their nutritional balance than their flavor.

Ryan’s hungry, all the time, but he’s not about to eat anything John doesn’t offer.  John made clear that Ryan’s fate depends on following John’s directors, so that’s what Ryan is going to do.  Ryan’s also tired and sore all the time, never feels like he got quite enough sleep, but those are John’s directions, too, and what’s he going to do instead, Call of Duty marathons while he eats big piles of Chipotle take-out?  John would at least demand he switch the chips out for kale chips, would try to get Ryan to play NHL 13 instead while talking about how the weird cover vote campaign John’s teammates got up to.

John’s teammates.  Hopefully Ryan’s teammates, too, soon.

\--

He’s made the cut.

He’s starting the season on Long Island.

He’s not going back to Bridgeport.

Anders is, which what the hell, that doesn’t make much sense and Ryan thinks that Anders totally deserves to be up with them. Anders is disappointed but at least he doesn’t take it out on Ryan or anything, just congratulates Ryan and smiles a little sadly when Ryan tells him, “Seriously, see you soon.  _Really_ fucking soon.”

The Islanders are having their strongest start since many years before they drafted John, and Ryan’s _part_ of it.  It’s amazing. Even if it still seems like Cappy isn’t always quite sure what to do with Ryan, sometimes. 

\--

Sure enough, Anders is back a few weeks later after Grabner goes on IR for the millionth-seeming time.  They put Anders and Ryan back together on a line, stick Brock in the middle, and soon everyone’s talking about the three of them, calling them the Kid Line.

They have to laugh at that a little bit – Anders is almost a whole year _older_ than John – but on the other hand, John wouldn’t be on a “Kid” line even when he was younger. “I’m from the same town as John,” Ryan tells his linemates, who both grew up in Minnesota and so don’t know what it was like to play midget in the shadow John casts.  “John was _never_ a kid, as far as any of us know.”

He feels mean saying that.  _Canadian hockey robot, never born so much as programmed_ , is what some people might think he means.  And he doesn’t.  It’s not _that_ at all.  It’s just – when John’s been the hero of every player in the GTA who is even a little bit younger than him, it’s hard to see him as ever having been their age.

And since Anders is back up and Ryan is apparently staying up, Ryan thinks about asking Anders to get a place together, but that’s not how it ends up working out.  Anders gets a smaller apartment across from another teammate, and Ryan –

John asks Ryan to move in, and Ryan says “of course” because he’s not enough of a fool to turn that down.

\--

Casey fucks up his leg and goes on IR. 

The team needs another center but they aren’t happy with the centers they have at Bridgeport, so they call up a wing and put Ryan in Casey’s spot at C4.

When they get to Minnesota and Anders and Brock and Kyle all go off to see family, Matt drags Ryan off to his hotel room.  “Come on, Stromer, liney bonding time!”

They get to the room, and Casey’s there, leg in an ugly black brace but still smiling as much as ever.  “Hey Stromer, we’re getting room service, what do you want? Injured guy’s buying so get whatever.”

Ryan gets chicken parm and a chef salad, and then the three of them end up splitting most of a peanut butter pie while they watch cartoons.

“Sorry you’re stuck in the press box, Zeeker.”

Casey shrugs. “I’m sorry, too. But I’ll hang out pre-game with the rest of the wives and SOs, if I can’t go I can at least be part of the family cheering section, and one strawberry margarita shouldn’t mess me up too bad.”

Ryan doesn’t know if he knew for sure, before this, that Casey and Matt were definitely together. They’re obviously close, but so are Anders and Brock, and Ryan can’t picture either of them hanging out in the WAG box to cheer for the other.

\--

They’re in Winnipeg for New Year’s Eve, and Ryan’s in almost his old spot in the lineup, except Fransie is between him and Anders in Brock’s usual spot.

Ryan’s had a frustrating last…several games, managing to chip in an odd assist but not scoring any actual goals in _weeks._   But finally in Winnipeg, he breaks through that slump and gets three assists besides. 

He’s just had a four-point night, in a game that the Isles won 5-2, which means that he had a lot to do with getting the team to a win. And that feels amazing. 

He goes to hang out and talk the game over with John at the hotel – even though Anders is still his road roommate, and John doesn’t have one anymore, sometimes it helps Ryan, maybe even helps John too, to keep the kind of routine for talking about things that they have when they’re home.

“I wish I could play like that all the time,” is the first thing Ryan says.

John just shakes his head.  “Nobody plays like that  _all the time,_ though.  Glad you did tonight, we needed the win and I think you needed the confidence.”

“Yeah,” Ryan admits.  “It’s kind of weird though, playing a normal game on New Year’s Eve, just another day, instead of –“

“World Juniors, yeah,” John interrupts, smiling.  “I mean, those games, I don’t know, some of the best times I’ve ever had on the ice.”

“You had better teams than I did – I mean, of course you did, they had _you_ on them.”  Ryan can’t believe he said that but it’s too late now. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence but it wasn’t just me. It’s the whole team, ask Hicksey about it sometime if you like.”

“Even though we weren’t as good sometimes it was still fun.”

“Especially for you, I heard.”

Ryan just looks at John, confused.

“Drouin liked to kiss and tell, huh?”

Ryan has to laugh.  “Oh yeah, that.  That was…I guess really it was the best part of it, we didn’t play so well that year. I mean, Jo and I, _we_ played together okay, but the team…”

“The team couldn’t get it done,” John finishes for Ryan, then tilts his head, looking like he’s considering something.

They don’t say anything for a little while.  It’s not really a comfortable silence, John is so close and – and he’s _staring_ at Ryan, intense, and Ryan wants to say something but he’s not sure what _to_ say.

It’s John that finally breaks the silence.  “Got another New Year’s kiss lined up?”

Wait, _what?_  “N….no…”  How is this conversation happening, how is Ryan sitting on a hotel bed next to his hero, his captain, and talking about – about kissing other _guys_ and…maybe he shouldn’t be here but he’s also not sure how to leave.  He doesn’t even know for sure what John thinks about this kind of thing.  Sure, there are always rumors, and John took it _really_ hard when Colin was sent down, but –

“You do now,” John says, and Ryan isn’t sure if he’s dreaming, or hallucinating from some weird combination of exhaustion and adrenaline, but John’s pulling Ryan close, closer, kissing Ryan with the same harsh, overwhelming intensity that he brings to _everything_. 

It almost doesn’t feel real, almost feels like it’s happening to someone else, John pushing Ryan down on the bed, murmuring “all the kisses you want, Ryan,” before moving to lick and nibble his way along Ryan’s ear and neck. 

Ryan’s forgotten how to move, forgotten how to breathe _,_ almost, except there are small soft sounds of want he can just barely recognize that he’s the one making, and when John whispers “Stay?” he somehow manages “mm-hmm” and an arm free enough to press John closer, to get a handful of the back of John’s shirt. 

John chuckles. “Want that off?”

Ryan can’t trust his voice. He nods and lets go of the shirt.

“Yours too, then.” 

John’s doing most of the work to get them both out of their clothes. He seems to realize that, and his voice is softer and gentler than it’s been when he asks, “You okay, Ry?”

Ryan smiles, takes a moment to find his voice. “This is – wow.”

John smiles back.  “Wow sounds good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good.”

“Good. Now, where were we…”

\--

Anders chirps Ryan in the morning about being such a hero-worshipping geek that he actually spent his New Year’s Eve watching game tape with their captain.

Ryan’s fine with letting Anders think that.  Unlike _certain people_ , neither he nor John are particularly inclined to kiss and tell. 

Except it becomes more and more of a thing on the road, harder to hide, John asking Ryan to stay and Ryan staying.  And when they’re on the fourth night of a week-long road trip and Ryan has barely been back to “his” room except to change clothes and shower, Anders looks a little closer at Ryan and sarcastically asks, “Game tape and chill?” Ryan tries to laugh it off but he can feel his face getting red. 

“Oh wait, really?” Anders asks. “I’m sorry, Stromer, I wasn’t trying to…”

Ryan shrugs.

“It’s cool.  I won’t say anything or anything.”

It’s a little uncomfortable later that night having to admit to John that he thinks Anders has figured them out, but John doesn’t seem to mind that much.  “I might not be kissing and telling all over the Internet, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to freak out if the team knows what’s up.”

Ryan nods, manages a small smile.

“Ryan.  I love you. I’m not ashamed to admit it.”

“I love you too.  I mean, I’ve had a _crush_ on you for years but now I’m – I’m really in love.”

“You had a crush on me, really?”

“Come _on_ , Johnny Canada, you think half of Toronto doesn’t?”  It’s so strange, feeling light enough and silly enough to actually joke about something like this.

It’s so strange, this feeling that Ryan is getting everything he’s ever wanted. 

\-- 

It’s the first time Ryan has played an NHL playoff game on home ice. 

He’s heard the Coliseum get loud a lot, before, especially this season, because it’s the last year before they move and because the team is actually good, which from everything John’s said hasn’t happened in a while.

He’s never heard it like this. When Kyle scores, Ryan can feel the entire building shake.  He can’t hear Cappy calling line changes on the bench – Dougie has to resort to tapping people to send them out. 

The Coli quiets down a little after the period ends, a little more when the Caps tie it up.  Then explodes in noise as it becomes clear the game is going to overtime.

Cappy puts Ryan out on John’s wing to start OT. 

Fifteen seconds from puck drop, it’s done. John won the draw, got right to the net and that was that. The only thing louder than the crowd is the team, flying over the boards to celebrate. 

Everything is a jubilant blur. If this is what it’s like to win just one first-round playoff game at home Ryan can’t imagine winning a series or even going further on than that.

As soon as the post-game interviews are over, John finds Ryan and says, “I’m taking you home.”

Ryan follows John to the car, follows John into the house, close but carefully not touching.  The door barely closes behind them when John tells Ryan, “I know that’s, like, your one game day suit, you might want to get out of it before I tear it right off of you."

Ryan laughs. He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

\--

The next game’s a disaster, though.  Not because they lost, or well, not _just_ because they lost. It’s a best-of-seven series for a reason, the Isles and Caps came into the series very close matches for each other, and being 2-2 after Game 4 is a lot better than being 1-3.

The problem is, they’ve lost Vis.  And at this rate they’re going to lose someone else if Hicksey or Ders or both get themselves suspended trying to avenge Vis. 

Ryan’s furious, of course, the whole _team_ is about what happened, but he’s doing the best he can to keep his head about the whole fiasco.  John is doing the same, though Kyle has been out there telling any reporter who will listen that Tom Wilson is a dangerous idiot.  Which, it’s not that Ryan disagrees, exactly, under the circumstances – but isn’t that just giving the Caps bulletin board material?

They take it to seven games, but the seventh game – they score once and then the whole team not only can’t buy a goal, they can barely manage a fucking _shot_.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.  This ending hurts.

Everything is about getting better.  We need to be better. I need to be better.  We need to work harder.  We need to find ways.

John pushes himself hard, like he always does, and pushes Ryan hard right along with him, like he always does.  Training’s a full-time job, and they need to work overtime. And Ryan follows John’s lead.  He loves John, he trusts John, and there really isn’t much he wouldn’t do – he’s not going to say “I’d do _anything_ ” because someone would come up with something he couldn’t do, like kill his brothers, but there isn’t much outside of horrifying illegal things.

Sometimes Dylan works out with them, and he always leaves stunned, asking Ryan how on earth he does it, how he keeps up.

“It’s what you do when you’ve got too much to lose to _not_ do it,” is the best Ryan can manage. Because that’s not even about being in the NHL. It’s about John, about wanting to be sure that John will still love him.

Some people might call that unhealthy. But they’re professional athletes. They’ve gotta know _something_ about health, right?

 -

Training camp is kind of a fiasco.  Sanger is supposed to get a try at being on John’s wing, and Ryan’s kind of mad because he was hoping he’d be able to show that he belongs there, no really, and they’re putting Anders on the left and Ryan’s always played well with Anders. But they want to give the kid a try.

And then he – oversleeps.  What the fuck.  You have the chance to skate with John Tavares on your line, and you don’t even show up? How the fuck does that even _work,_ what is wrong with this kid?

They send him back to his junior team right away, and Ryan tries to ignore all the nonsense and just work on his own game, focus on himself, but it’s hard.  He wants to be on John’s line, he wants to show that he should _be_ on John’s line, but then when he is on John’s line he’s so focused on getting the puck to John that he makes a lot of strategic mistakes. And Cappy yells at him, and the other guys tease him about it, and it’s embarrassing.

What’s even more embarrassing is falling on his ass four different times in practice, only to find out he has the flu. 

What’s more embarrassing – humiliating, really – than that? Giving his boyfriend, who is also his Captain and the star of his team, the flu.

They’re gonna get chirped _so hard_ when they’re both well enough to play again.  Whoever hadn’t figured out about them will figure it out now, that’s for sure.

Ryan tells John that, and John almost smiles.

\--

Ryan just can’t seem to get it together after coming back from being sick. But it’s not just him. John’s been struggling, the whole _team_ has been struggling.  And then Cappy calls Ryan in, tells Ryan that he needs to go down to Bridgeport for a while and get it together.

It sucks. It sucks so much. Ryan can’t even wear his usual jersey number, some kid he doesn’t know is wearing Ryan’s 18, so he’s suddenly got a collection of number 81 jerseys that reflect how he feels – backwards and out of place – and a room at the fucking Holiday Inn in Bridgeport.

John’s pacing around Ryan’s hotel room.  “Ryan.  You know why they did this.”

“Yeah, I get it, I’ve had trouble keeping my shit together and I’m also the only one they can send down without waivers so I’m just – just taking one for the team.”

“No, they’re making you into my whipping boy. Sure, they care about waivers, except when they don’t. But they think it looks bad to bench me, to even complain about how I’m playing, so if they want to get to me they do it through – whoever I’m close to on the team. That’s why they traded Matty away, back before you were here, it was supposed to be about how Vanek was better and would make me better too but it was really their way of saying they were disappointed in me.  It’s why they sent Colin back down and tried everything else they could think of before they called him back up end of last season.  By then both of us had moved on –“ at that, he actually smiles at Ryan a little bit, reaches out to squeeze his hand – “maybe that’s why they brought him back up, they knew it would matter less by then.  Now I guess it’s your turn.”

Ryan looks down. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Do what they tell you. Do more than what they tell you. Work your ass off and get it back to New York, with me, where you belong.”

\--

It’s hard to get back into the rhythm when he does come back up.  Mostly because now he thinks he has to do _whatever_ John says, pretty much no matter what.

Because John is telling him, over and over, all the time, “I can’t lose you again, Ryan, I can’t!”

John drives Ryan hard, but only as hard as he drives himself, and how is Ryan supposed to say no to that?  Especially because he knows that John’s doing it because John loves him, because John wants him, because John is afraid that Ryan will be taken away again.

They both are having trouble putting the weight back on after their bout with the flu, but John is very insistent that they have to put muscle back on, not fat, so they have to eat as much good protein as they can stand.  Ryan trades his bacon and veggie omelettes for bison steaks washed down with stevia-sweetened protein shakes and does the best he can to choke it all down without complaint, to smile when John fixes homemade kale chips to go with guac.

He almost misses Bridgeport and the Chipotle-catered bus rides.  But of course he can’t say that.  He does the best he can not to _think_ that.  John would be so angry.  And so disappointed.

He can’t disappoint John again.  He just _can’t._

And at the same time he has to figure out how to keep the coaching staff happy, how to be good enough that they don’t _want_ to take out whatever frustrations they are having with John on Ryan.  Because when they do that it just rattles John more, and the coaches take it out on Ryan more, and John and Ryan are both tired of this dynamic especially because nobody will officially admit it exists.

\--

Gibby, the brand new rookie call-up goalie, plays just well enough to keep the team in the game.

Hicksey pulls off some overtime heroics, and that’s it. They’re in the playoffs, and they clinched their spot playing against the Caps.

Sometimes playing well is the best revenge you can get.

When it all shakes out, they’ve got the first wild card spot, and they’re going up against Florida.

They’re in the playoffs.  That’s what matters right now.  Nobody outside their own locker room seems to think they’re going to get past the Panthers, but at least they’re in.

It’s a start.

It’s a lot of close, difficult games, most of them taking overtime to resolve. Playoff overtime, sometimes double overtime, none of that “five minutes of sudden death and then a shootout” easy regular season stuff.

Ryan gets his ice time cut, and cut again, and then he gets scratched completely. 

He watches from the Barclays press box as John’s double-overtime goal wins the series.

They go on to Tampa, win the first game, and lose the next four.

Ryan’s on the ice this time when Tampa shuts them out to take the series.

Maybe the team would have been better off if he had stayed scratched.

He says as much to John, and John snaps “Don’t be ridiculous” but won’t talk about it more than that.

\--

They head back to Toronto for the off-season. Ryan’s used to going home and spending time with his brothers, but John looks so upset when he suggests it that he decides it’s not worth the trouble.  He talks Dylan into joining them at the practice rink, which is better than nothing.  But he misses his family’s summer cookouts and movie nights.

He says something to John about the cookouts. Once.  Once is bad enough.  John snaps at him about how if they’re going to go off of their training plan it had better be for something better than cheap-ass hot dogs on shitty white-bread buns.

 _You’re assuming the actual food is the point_ , Ryan thinks to himself, but bites back before he actually says anything.  It’s not like his family wouldn’t be totally fine with John throwing his – their – fucking bison patties on the grill.  His parents raised three hockey players, for fuck’s sake.

Ryan’s not sure if John is just freaking out about food and training, like he’s been doing ever since they had the flu, or if he’s trying to avoid Ryan’s family and using their training regimens as an excuse.

Either way, he doesn’t like it.  He doesn’t like the silent worried looks he gets from Dylan when they practice together, either.  But for all that, it’s hard when Dylan goes to Arizona for rookie camp.

It’s even harder when they pack up their cars to go back to New York.  The summer has been every bit as grueling as the season, because John won’t rest.  And if John won’t rest, Ryan can’t rest.  He’s tired all the time, sore all the time, hungry all the time.

He can’t live like this.  He can’t stop.  He can’t tell anyone because they’d either tell him to suck it up and stop whining or – or they’d tell him that John doesn’t love him, and John loving him is the one thing that Ryan _needs_ to be sure of.

He wants to cry all the time, but John would see it and he would have to explain.

He saves the tears for when John fucks him, lets that be the one bit of release and relaxation he gets.

\--

Ryan almost snaps to breaking on the drive.  It’s been so long since he’s felt this alone, _been_ this alone, with his thoughts.  And it’s hard to focus on the road when his brain is twisting speed limit signs into workout reps, when he’s seeing deer crossing signs and can almost taste the venison stew his uncle used to bring them, wonders what the nutrient ratio is on that and just how badly off-plan it would be.

He makes it as far as Scranton, and then he _has to_ stop.  He has to stop and get some coffee and _eat_ something, or he’s going to wreck the car, going to wreck _himself_ and start the season on IR, and John will fucking flip.

The little store in the rest stop is closed, it’s all vending machine shit here, and none of it is anything on his plan but –

_Crashing the car is not on your plan. Do what you have to do and get yourself back home._

He gets a cup of black coffee and a Snickers bar and gets back on the road.  John got there first, of course, has dinner waiting, has their bed made up.  The contents of Ryan’s car can all wait until morning.

\--

 It all falls apart because John _thinks_ he’s going to do something nice for Ryan, help Ryan unload the car, maybe even do it for him as a surprise.

At least, that’s the spin that Ryan knows John’s going to put on it.  But then, John’s not the one who woke up to his boyfriend screaming at him, waving a goddamned Snickers wrapper in his face.

He’s barely awake and before he can even think about what he’s saying he snaps, “Fuck off, John, it’s a fucking candy wrapper, not a condom wrapper!”

“It’s not on the plan, you’re supposed to tell me if you’re going off the plan –“

“You know what else wasn’t on my plan? _Running the fucking car off the road because I was that fucking tired._   You want to start this conversation over again and pretend you actually give a _shit_ about me and not get in my face like I cheated on you or something?”

“You cheated on the plan,” John snaps back, and obviously he’s totally _oblivious_ to how nonsensical that sounds.

Ryan is still tired and hungry and sore. And now he’s also furious and yet resigned.  “Fuck this, don’t touch anything else in my fucking car then, I’m – we’re done.” 

He throws on last night’s clothes, grabs his keys, gets in his car, and drives – somewhere, anywhere.

Casey’s.  He’ll go to Casey’s.  Casey was the one with the balls to chirp John about his fucking kale chip Super Bowl parties.  Casey might actually understand this.

\--

Casey opens the door.  “Oh hey, Stromer, what’s –“

“I’m done,” Ryan says, cutting Casey off. “I – it hurts, it’s going to be awful for the team in some ways, I get that, but I can’t anymore.”

“You sure?” Casey asks softly.

“Absolutely sure.”  Ryan expected his voice would be shaking, expected  _he_ would be shaking, would be crying, but right now it’s clear and calm and certain.  He’s not doing this, not anymore. There’s nothing John can say or do that’s going to change Ryan’s mind. There’s nothing left of what they were to save, not after this.

“What do you need from us?” Casey asks, and  _that’s_  the part that leaves Ryan uncertain and unsteady again.

“I – I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far.”

Casey nods.  “Well, let’s go in, sit down, whatever.”

They head into the living room, where Matt’s reading, but Matt puts the book down as soon as he sees Ryan.  “Stromer? You okay?” he asks, in that soft gentle voice that he uses with the younger players, the voice that seems so out of place coming from a big guy who will drop gloves with just about anyone.

Ryan sinks down onto the couch, shaking his head.  “I haven’t been okay since I don’t remember when, but I’m – better? Because John and I, we’re done.”

“Good.” Matt’s voice is sharp, suddenly. “I don’t have to pretend to think what he was doing is okay anymore, he’s not my captain, not my teammate, and he treated you like a useless stupid  _child,_  I wished all last year I could just – punch him for it.”

“That bad, huh?”

“That bad,” Matt confirms, which makes Ryan feel better and worse at the same time.  Better for Matt agreeing that Ryan  _should_  be done, worse for having gotten into the situation and stayed in it as long as he had.

“So…I guess now I gotta figure out what’s next.”

Casey looks at Ryan, obviously trying to figure something out, then says, “That was a pretty big decision. So if you don’t want to decide anything else for a little while, I’ve got a plan.”

Ryan almost wants to protest, he just walked out on John because John was planning Ryan’s entire  _life_  for him in a way that pretty much left Ryan no say, but – Casey’s not John. And if Ryan doesn’t like the plan, Casey won’t flip out at him for saying so.  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Here’s my plan: Marty’s going to go pick us all up some Shake Shack, and you and I are going to sit on this couch and watch Space Jam until he comes back, and then we’re all going to eat our food, and  _then_  you can talk about what happened, if you want.  Sound okay?”

“That…sounds like an  _amazing_  plan, actually.”

It’s a good plan, at first. Casey sits sitting next to Ryan, just close enough to touch without crowding him, and laughing along with the familiar comforting noise of a cartoon he’s watched dozens of times before.

But when Matt comes back with the Shake Shack, and sets down a big peanut butter milkshake in front of Ryan, Ryan can’t focus, can’t pick up the shake, can hardly even _breathe,_ can’t tell Matt or Casey what’s wrong 

“Stromer.” Matt looks at Ryan, focused, serious. “I know Zeeker said we weren’t going to have you talk about it until we finish eating. But we’re gonna get there eventually, so if you’re putting off eating so you don’t have to talk –”

Ryan shakes his head emphatically. At least he can still do that. “I – I can’t – I know I need to but it’s – it’s scary.”

“Burger and fries and a peanut butter shake. Is scary.” Casey’s voice – Ryan didn’t think it _could_ be that flat.  Or that cold.  Casey seems to realize that and then adds, “Fuck, Stromer, I’m not pissed at you.  But whatever it was that happened, it’s a rough day, it’s kind of a state of shock, and even if it’s not what Gary Roberts thinks elite athletes should be eating we need to get some fucking _calories_ in you or it’s just gonna mess you up more, make it easier for you to get hurt training.”

“I’ll fucking _kill_ Tavy,” Matt mutters, fists clenched.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Casey snaps.  “Then you’re the bad guy and he’s the sympathetic martyr.  And that doesn’t help Stromer or anyone else.”  Then he turns to Ryan.  “Do you need us to, like, feed you the fries? Because we will. No judgment, I’m completely serious.”

Ryan shakes his head. “I’ll take you up on that if I have to but right now…just let me try.”  He focuses on steadying his hands, picks up the shake.

The first sip is terrifying.  He almost spits it back out, wonders for a moment if he’s going to end up throwing up.

He swallows, counts to twenty before taking a second sip.

The second sip is scary, but easier. It only takes a count of ten between the second and the third, a deep shaky breath without counting between the third and the fourth.

By the fifth, he can taste it as a peanut butter shake, not as sticky-sweet forbidden fruit. 

He unwraps the burger, takes a bite. It’s a little scary, not as bad as the first sip of the shake.  Maybe as bad as the third sip was. 

The others are mostly busy with their own food, but definitely each keeping an eye on Ryan, making sure he’s eating, making sure he’s okay.  Well, as okay as he can be, given – what happened, what he’s just done. They finish their food before Ryan finishes his, and stay quiet, waiting.

Once Ryan’s eaten everything, Casey says, “Of course, you can stay here as long as you want, Marty’s headed up to Toronto soon and there will be all kinds of space for you.  I mean, until you find something you like, I’m not gonna make you stay but you don’t have to go back there either.”

“I’m _not_ going back.” Ryan’s voice shakes. “Whatever else happens, I am never living there again. He’d – I don’t want to think about the hell I’d have to pay for Shake Shack.”

Matt clenches his fists.  Casey glares at Matt, shakes his head, and Matt relaxes his hands, but asks through still-gritted teeth, “What – _exactly –_ do you mean by hell to pay?”

“Want me to tell you why I’m done?” Ryan bites his lip, then goes on. “He found a fucking Snickers wrapper in my car, okay, he started screaming in my face about it. I told him it was a goddamn candy wrapper, not a condom wrapper, and he told me that cheating on the plan was still cheating. And I can’t – I can’t do this anymore.” 

“No. You can’t.” Matt’s voice is still grim.  “No one can.”

\--

Ryan’s reached out to his agent, told him that he’s definitely open to a trade if anything good comes on the table. If only it were that simple. Or that fast. It’s hard to do all the photoshoots and the team bonding shit at training camp with everyone giving him weird looks for how he isn’t just hanging out with John anymore.

And then someone decides to do these stupid superlatives, like they’re back in high school, and film the guys as they pick out who’s the Most Musical or whatever the fuck.  Not exactly Ryan’s idea of a good time, especially under the circumstances. But he manages to get back a little of his own when he picks Casey for the best looking teammate, picks Casey again for the teammate he’d want on his fantasy team, and carefully avoids picking John for anything other than Most Serious. 

The team hasn’t all figured out what’s going on, of course. But the guys are learning that Ryan’s not living with John anymore, and a few have seen him coming and going with Casey, and the both of them are getting some weird looks from Hammer and Anders and even some of the newer guys about it.

\--

Ryan can tell that Casey wants to ask him what the hell that was all about, today, but he also doesn’t want to bring it up. Which makes two of them.  But Ryan’s the guest in Casey’s house, he’s the one making it weird, and if it’s going to be that weird he’d rather know now.

“Sorry about camp today. I just – you know I would’ve picked Johnny for all that and I just couldn’t and since I’m _here,_ I don’t know, it just was instinct or something I guess.”

“I get it. The guys will figure it out and I know that part’s gonna be weird but it’s not like I’m your rebound or whatever.” Casey’s actually laughing.

Casey’s laughing and for the first time it hurts Ryan instead of making him feel better.  Because - because it hits Ryan all at once, that’s exactly what he wants. They’re both alone, both lonely, it would make so much sense.

“Stromer? You okay?” So now Casey’s _not_ laughing, or even smiling, and it hurts Ryan worse to see Casey serious and focused and worried.

Ryan tries to keep it light. “I wouldn’t mind being your rebound.”

“Wait a minute. Wait. I – no, we’re, Marty and I are good, no rebounding happening here. I mean, I’m flattered, but I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.” Ryan’s stuck with this now, with this thing he didn’t even realize he wanted until hearing he can’t have it.  “I wasn’t even thinking, but I guess maybe –“

Casey cuts him off. “Stromer, you deserve better, Tavy’s a fucking _idiot_ and I’d tell him that to his face even if nobody else will. And, I mean, you’re – I like having you around. But you know I’m about as off the market as it gets.”

“But…he _left_ you. I mean, he just left, how does that even work?”

“He didn’t _just_ leave. We talked about it, a lot, when we realized the contract talks were going bad for him. Because maybe we could have, Marty could have, just pried another year or two out of Snow, but if it was that hard there’s no way to be sure he wouldn’t just land on waivers, and then who knows if he would end up in fucking Anaheim or Vancouver or who the hell knows where, right? So when it went to the negotiating window, Toronto called and – well, we’re both from the six, you know how it is. It wouldn’t be weird for me to say I’m going to spend time with my family, or to be seen there in the off-season. It’s the best we could do.”

“It sucks, though.”

“It sucks a lot, I feel like I’m playing without my fucking left arm half the time because ever since I made the team I’ve played with Marty, too, but it’s still the best we could do, make the decision before it got made _for_ us, while he still had some power over the situation.”

Ryan thinks about that for a bit. “I’m kind of stuck right now,” he says, “my contract’s here, I don’t want to ask for a trade because if that gets out, well, you know what a shit show it was when someone leaked that Hammer asked for a trade.”

Casey sighs and nods, remembering.  The team had tried so hard to rally behind Travis, did everything they could to make a horrible situation as less-bad as possible, but Travis had already lost his father so long ago, and it looked like he might lose his mother, too, and he wanted to spend as much time with her as he could, and it was so hard to get away to see her, and she couldn’t travel to him.

Travis had been lucky, his mother recovered and he decided to withdraw the trade request.  But if they hadn’t been able to make a trade work for a serious reason like Travis had, Ryan didn’t exactly think “get me out of here because I broke up with the team captain and can hardly stand to be around him” would go over so well.

\--

The one good part is that at least management gets it out to the media that they see Ryan as a center, that they’re expecting to play him as a center. So maybe that will get them off of this kick that he’s going to be John’s perfect linemate.

He’s not John’s perfect anything.  Nobody _could_ be.  But maybe they can stick someone on John’s right that has his own life and his own routine down and doesn’t stand a chance of falling into the trap Ryan fell into.

When camp starts, and Bails starts lining up on John’s right side, it’s a huge relief.

Ryan starts hanging out with the younger guys, the ones that are either new to the team or up from Bridgeport.  It’s funny – John used to sometimes say shit about how he knew Ryan was meant for more, wasn’t just another third- or fourth-line grunt, but Ryan knows now that he’s happy to have a little less ice time in exchange for less pain and the occasional chips and guac or not-protein-enhanced milkshake.

He’s surprised he can still be an Islander and yet mostly ignore John.  It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s easier than he thought it would be.  He still isn’t playing a lot of minutes, still gets scratched sometimes, but at least he can breathe again, can hear himself think again.

\--

He’s on the way to Chicago to watch Matty’s draft when his in-flight WiFi goes bananas with the news.  His agent finally got him out and it’s the talk of the hockey world – Strome for Eberle, straight up.

\--

It’s not a lie, not even a little bit of a stretch, for Ryan to tell reporters that he is ecstatic about his trade to Edmonton. He’ll never be able to tell the truth about _why,_ of course, but he can at least be openly happy about it.  Even if it’s a little – okay, _more_ than just a little – uncomfortable to get the questions about possibly playing next to Connor McDavid.  He doesn’t want to go there again, doesn’t want to be like that star-struck eighteen year old kid from six years ago who couldn’t see beyond how amazing it would be to play with the guy who was then seen as Toronto’s most “exceptional” talent. 

The good thing is, he can talk to Connor about it.  And they do.  Connor reminds Ryan that to _him,_ Ryan was more of a role model than John because Ryan was real and approachable. And Ryan laughs, remembering how many interviews Connor did his draft year talking about “Mr. Tavares” like John was a high school gym teacher or something.

And for Ryan? Connor might be amazingly talented, might well be a better player than Ryan and John put together were, but Connor’s _also_ at the same time Davo, Ryan’s kid brother’s friend, regular occupant of the Strome rec room couch.  There’s no room for hero worship, no pedestals, no making each other into something they’re not 

Ryan can live with that.  Ryan can be happy here, whether he’s the first line right wing or the fourth line center or anywhere in between in this line-up. 

Ryan can train for himself, play for his team, and take the ordinary criticism of a coach or second-guessing after the fact of a linemate without feeling like he could lose everything if he doesn’t agree and comply with every last bit of it. 

\--

He doesn’t feel totally settled in right away, of course. It’s a process, as he learns about the team and the team learns about him. 

Connor’s great.  Nuge is great.  Nuge could have been mad because that was one of his best friends who just got traded. But Nuge doesn’t ever act like he’s mad about it, and whatever mad he might be he’s not taking it out on Ryan, and he’s not bad-mouthing management _to_ Ryan, and that’s – really good enough for now.

And the other guys? He’d always been a little intimidated by Lucic when they played against him, but Looch isn’t that different from Boych as far as any of that goes – they might be tough players, even mean ones, on the ice, but they’re pretty much bonus Cool Big Brothers the rest of the time.  Ryan can laugh with Looch, thank him for his excellent Big Brother-ing tips, because with the two little brothers _he’s_ got, Ryan needs all the help he can get, and then some.

But Connor, especially, is great.  And they’re both happy to hear it when Dylan lets them know that he’ll be in the lineup next time Edmonton comes to Arizona.

Ryan’s comfortable enough now, with Connor as his captain and with his own place on the team, to tease Connor a little about Dylan.  He’s always wondered if, well, if there was something there.

Connor laughs it off.  “Not my type, I don’t go for the raccoon look so much.”  Then he bites his lip, looking like he wants to say something else.

Ryan smiles and nods and waits.

“Actually – well, this is embarrassing, but it was _you_ I kind of had a crush on.”

“Wait – me, really?”

“Yeah.  Remember what I said before, about how you were always the _real_ one, how it was easier to look up to you because you were, you know, human and stuff, not some ideal player who was never really a kid?”

“You said, yeah.”

“What I didn’t say was that I _really_ liked you.  And I kind of…still do?”

“Wow.”

“Is that a yes I like you too wow or a dude what’s wrong with you wow?”

“It’s…a this is a lot to process kind of wow.  I didn’t think of _you_ that way, but I thought maybe you and Dylan were, and I was – was with John the last few years and then it all blew up, and – and I don’t know.”

“I’m not gonna pressure you, Ry.  Dyls would fucking kill me, and there’s probably a line of people behind him to help.  But – I guess I feel like there’s hope, like you aren’t just freaking out and saying no way in hell out of hand?  Tell me if I’m wrong and there is no way in hell.”

Ryan takes a deep breath, tries to smile.  “It’s not a no way in hell.  It’s…last time I dated my team’s captain, it ended really _really_ badly, and that’s probably at least part of why I’m here? And I’m, I don’t know, nervous about making a habit of that.”

Connor nods.  “I get that. I mean, if you want to talk more about what happened, I’m totally here to listen, but if you’d rather not get into it that’s cool too.”

“I guess I can tell you how it ended? If you want to know? 

“Okay? 

Ryan _knows_ how absurd this sounds.  “We broke up because he got pissed off that I ate a candy bar that wasn’t on my training plan.”

Connor nods.  “What kind of candy?" 

“Snickers.”

“Fuck that.  Snickers are _awesome_. I’m gonna get Looch to staple that asshole to the boards so _fucking_ hard next time we play them…”

Ryan shakes his head.  “Nah, just keep getting the puck away when he turns it over. He turns over a lot and it pisses him off so much.”

“I’ll remember that.”

\--

They don’t talk about it for a while, but the game after a particularly rough nothing-went-right outing against the Kings, Ryan finds a Snickers bar in his locker with “life’s short, be happy, not hangry!” scribbled on a note. 

When he knows Connor can see him, he grins and unwraps the bar.  Connor catches his eye and gives him a thumbs-up.

Their last game before Valentine’s Day, Ryan returns the favor, putting a Snickers bar into Connor’s locker, with a note that says “Sweets for the sweet!”

Connor waits around after the game, and Ryan waits too, trying not to be obvious.  Once everyone else has cleared out, Connor walks over.  “So you’re saying there’s a chance?” he asks, giving Ryan a nervous smile 

“I’m not saying there’s a _chance._ I’m saying yes.”

\--

It’s so different, being around Connor like this. Being with Connor all the time off-ice, never seeming to get tired of each other, but being totally fine with playing on different lines and just – not worrying too much about the on-ice stuff. It’s almost like Ryan’s _not_ dating a teammate at all, it’s so low-pressure. 

Well, no, it’s still like dating a teammate.  It’s just not like dating your own idol. And he’s checked in with Connor to make sure Connor isn’t doing that either, because he’d never, _ever_ , want to be in a position to make Connor or _anyone_ feel the way John made him feel.

“I’m good.  Really good.  I’d tell you if I wasn’t.  But Ry?  I want you to know how much I appreciate you checking in like that.  Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem, I’m kind of in love with you and I want to make sure everything’s good with us. 

“Awesome.  I’m kind of in love with you, too, you know. 

They take an obnoxiously cute selfie and send it to Dylan, who sends back a bunch of eyeroll emojis and “how the hell am I supposed to decide which of you losers to give the shovel talk to?”

\--

The season doesn’t end the way they want it to.  The Oilers couldn’t get it together enough to make the playoffs.

Of course, neither could the Islanders, and Ryan feels a little burst of mean satisfaction about that.  Not as strong as it would have been when he was first traded here, but definitely still there.

\--

Ryan doesn’t know why he’s watching so closely – the Islanders are neither his circus nor his monkeys, anymore, thank GOD for that – but the rumors swirl fast and furious from their camp, from the Leafs camp, from the Sharks and Stars and Lightning too and it’s hard not to get caught up in hockey’s big story.

The clock runs out on the Islanders, and Ryan isn’t sure what’s going to happen next.  Except that John Tavares, hero and savior of the Islanders according to everyone who is anyone, has decided to walk away, because they are just that terrible despite bringing in “real NHL-caliber” managers and coaches at the eleventh hour. 

Who would ever believe that the shy, soft-spoken, young “exceptional player” turned team captain had as much as anyone to do with  _making_  the team terrible?  Nobody who hadn’t lived with it, that’s for sure.

Well, whichever team signs John is going to find that out, and probably sooner rather than later, Ryan muses angrily.

Then the news breaks. It’s the Leafs.

“Hope Tavy likes having the paparazzi’s white lenses close enough to count his nose hairs!” is Dylan’s contribution.

Ryan and Dylan and Connor all laugh, then look at each other.

“This – this isn’t funny, though,” Ryan says, voice shaking.  The press is already speculating that Mitch Marner is going to be playing on John’s wing, and – “Mitchy.  We need to warn Mitchy, I’m not even joking.”

“Think he’s going to listen to any of us, though? I mean, it’s John freakin’ Tavares, you don’t get that kind of chance every day, and Mitchy grew up here, he’s got the hero worship thing going same as the rest of us did.”  Dylan shrugs.  “I’d talk to him but I don’t know…Davo?”

Connor shrugs.  And then it hits Ryan – he knows exactly who Mitch  _will_  listen to.

He grabs his phone and texts Matt:  _Call when you get a sec?_  

Matt calls about ten seconds later.  “Stromer, you holding up okay?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “I know this could be a lot worse, Tavy could be headed to the Oilers.”  He laughs.

Matt sighs. “I hope my agent can get me out of here, I know that Kyle wanted me traded anyway – maybe Lou still wants me around now that he’s on the Island.”

“Maybe.  Good luck, really, Marty, but that’s not why I needed to talk to you. 

“All right, what’s up, then?”

Ryan takes a deep breath.  “Mitch will listen to you. Dylan and Connor and I – we’re talking – you gotta warn Mitch. You know, about his new linemate, about what – about what he did to me. You can tell him it was me if you want, but you don’t have to, just – just  _warn_  him, I’m not kidding.”

Matt doesn’t say anything right away.  Then, “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’re right. I’ll talk to him, talk to Auston too.”

Ryan isn’t as worried about Auston Matthews. He’s Team USA, didn’t grow up anywhere near Canada, hasn’t been stuffed full of hype about John the way Mitch was.  But if Matt’s worried, well, Matt’s the one on that team, maybe he knows something Ryan doesn’t about it all.  Maybe Auston’s more vulnerable than he seems, as a player in Toronto who isn’t _from_ Toronto, or somewhere real close by.  Ryan’s seen that go down, too, after all.

Ryan chats with Matt a little more, just idle catching up, and goes back to Connor and Dylan.

Connor takes Ryan’s hand.  “You OK?”

Ryan moves closer, lets himself lean into Connor.  “Not all the way yet, but I will be.”

“Yeah, you will, babe, I got you.”

Dylan rolls his eyes. “I’m…gonna just go leave you two alone now, okay?”

Connor laughs and kisses Ryan before Dylan escapes the room completely.  Dylan’s just gonna have to deal.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Things that are going on here, implied or outright stated, for which warnings might be needed:
> 
> \- John has or develops a pretty severe case of orthorexia, and when Ryan moves in with him, the way one of my betas put it is "he's having his eating disorder for two, now." It's not enough for John to control what he's eating, he needs to control what Ryan is eating, when he's eating, when and how he's training, when and how much he sleeps, etc. This comes with a side of social isolation. 
> 
> \- John's never directly physically violent towards Ryan, but he is definitely being controlling and emotionally abusive.
> 
> \- Because of John's status on the team, he believes that the coaching staff benches/sends down/trades people he is close to to get at him instead of dealing with him directly. This may be true, may be John's own distorted perspective, or somewhere in between.
> 
> \- Ryan struggles, both in the relationship and after it ends, with disordered eating that he developed in the relationship. It gets better. 
> 
> \- One of Ryan's friends threatens violence to John when he hears that they've broken up and why, and it is plausible that he would carry out the threat. Another friend later offers to have someone use excessive force in-game against John if it would make Ryan feel better.
> 
> \- Ryan probably should've gotten therapy. He doesn't, or at least it didn't make it into the fic. Sorry about that, I'm totally in favor of letting the pros handle this kind of thing in reality.


End file.
